Daughter of Wind
by paleMistress
Summary: A woman comes to Hillwood. A Cult comes with her. A Cult that follows...The Wind? Why is this woman --Freda-- so interested in Helga? Why does Doctor Bliss seem to have a History with her? In fact, a lot of People seem to...R
1. Default Chapter

Hehehe...Hi. I know, I know. 'A Christmas Present for Arnold' and 'Legends of the Norse' needs finishing. Well, tell  
that to my computer! There was a power failure a few days ago, and, long story short, a fuse blew, or, a computer chip  
or...Pah! The point is it won't turn on. So, the second chapter of 'Legends of the Norse' (named 'Lila, Get out of the Water')  
and the FULLY COMPLETED fourth chapter of ACPfA (Named 'Eduardo's Redemption') now sit uslessly in a  
powerless computer. My mom promise to take it in, but she leave on her vaction tomorrow, so that thing ain't going   
NOWHERE till at LEAST August 12th. However, I was watching the Movie 'Chocolat', and came up with this little   
diddy that I quickly proceeded to save on Hotmail. So, I will post and finsh this entire story (only if you like it, of course)  
then proceed to post chapters from my two other stories when my Computer is fixed.  
By the way, for those of you wondering, I'm typing this on my mom's computer! O_o...  
Okay, Praying you like this...*gets down on her knees and begs*  
Disclaimer- ~*~CD~*~ + Hey Arnold = unh unh darling. ^-^  
  
  
~*~Daughter of Wind.~*~  
Prologue-Seven Years Past Midnight.  
(@)~)~~~(@)~)~~~(@)~)~~~(@)~)~~~  
  
The Clever North Wind blew that night.  
It blew deep into the cool night, howling into the deserted streets of the big City. Discarded papers and other debris were   
caught in its whirlwind wrath, fluttering like evil winged creatures to the sky above. Yes, this was without a doubt, the North   
Wind. For, what other could be so vengeful, so cruel, without reason?  
Or perhaps, the wind did have a reason tonight.  
From her well-furnished penthouse Apartment, child theripist Doctor Vivian Bliss stirred from the soft featherdown of her  
lavender-silk bed. Not even Egyptian Cotton could quell the good doctor's need for the finery of life. No, the   
high-maintence and as yet unweded Vivian had always been afflicted with a lust for the luxurious. She accepted this infirmity,   
though the illness would have probably not been as noticable, had she not taken the occupation she had. Her dark eyes   
opened and she watched the window carefully. No, it couldn't be. Not tonight. Not tonight, or the next night, or the next,   
thought she. This wind had not come to bother the city for quite some time. This wind had not plagued Hillwood for  
seven long years.  
Suddenly, Gusts of frigid hate slapped against her window, threatening to shatter the glass. She bolted out of the safe-haven   
of her sheets, the bare soles of her feet slapping against the rich, dark hardwood floor. She ran to the glass, placing her   
palm against it. She could feel the wind from out side, pushing, fighting to enter. An ice-cold draft already invaded through   
a few tiny cracks that, up until this day, Vivian hadn't known existed.  
It was all she had feared.  
This wind was the same that had been, the same that had been seeping into each of her nightmares. The same wind that   
had haunted her for seven years.  
She wet her full, trembling lips. Nothing had ever scared Doctor Bliss. And even now, she had no right or want to be   
frighted for herself.  
No, she was frightened for the girl.  
"No..." her wavering voice whispered, past the sill, the pane, and into the inky dark of a midnight world,  
"You stay away from her...leave her alone..."  
Outside, the heartless North wind, unheeding of her word, blew harder still.  
  
***  
  
They were travelers.   
In the simpleist terms, in the simplist form, that what all they were. Travelers. Drifters. Call them what you would. Yet no   
matter how much anyone pretended to know about them, there was only one rule they could even be counted on to follow.   
Never Stay.  
They moved from place to place. Town to Town, Village to Villiage, and--with the new modernization of the world--  
City to City. They were as unpridictable as the one thing they followed, closly as a religion.  
They were as unpridictable as the North Wind.  
They stayed however long the wind wished them to, and left whenever the wind bid it so. How they had come to   
understand the mysterious whisperings of their tempest gale was beyond anyone elses understanding but thier own. Thier   
numbers were few,and the group in its entirity was no bigger then twenty or so. But Powerful? Oh yes, they did have power.   
And for however mystic and vaugue that statment may be, it was truth. They had found their way into Hillwood as they had  
found thier way into every other place they had been. They had followed thier darling wind. They all wore thick, heavy  
hooded cloaks, Velvet in nature, and reminissant of a time long since past. Each had a different colour. Some bright, some   
drab, and some faded with time. They moved in a tight formation, carrying on either side of them the luggage they hauled  
into every town, kept in aged, torn suitcases. They kept their vastly oversized hoods covering their heads. And no matter   
how the wind blew, that was how it stayed. To see them was almost like seeing a line of ghostly apparitions, slowly pacing  
their way through the shawdowed, uncertain streets, seeking a place to rest, in peace. Finally, the two spectars that lead--  
one in a fores-green claok, the other in rich fushia--Turned into a garden-like area that was called merely 'City Park'.  
The rest of the group knew exactly what this place was, and they knew the trees, the benches, and the playgrounds.  
After, they had seen all this before.  
Seven years ago.  
"I've had enough!" Shouted the voice that came from the black cloak near the end suddenly. The group stopped, and all   
turned as black dropped his luggage and pulled back his hood violently, revealing ebony hair, solid brown eyes, and palid   
skin. he blustered up to the Forest Green and Fushia cloaks, turning to the green.  
"We've been walking five days without rest, Leal. We're hungry, tired and sore. You haven't even told us where the wind   
takes us! Either I get some answers, or I don't walk a step further!"  
The green--Leal-- removed his hood. His hair was bark-brown, with a beard to match, skin tanned, and eyes that   
mimicked the colour of his cloak. He smiled jovially at the Black.  
"I think you can calm down now, Anil." he said, his voice calm and patronizing, "We're exactly where we're suppose to be.   
Isn't that right, Freda?"  
The fushia cloak turned around, surveying the land. She, too, let her hood down, Exposing loose curls of gold-spun hair,  
porcline skin, deep hued lips, grey-blue eyes, and strangest of all, two high-arched brows that were mysteriously,   
dispite her hair colour...  
Black.  
"Yes." Freda replied, "This is where she is."  
Anil raised a brow in curiosity, "Who's here, Freda?"  
The other hooded figures stirred with the same interest.  
Freda turn back to them, hair whipping, cloak snapping, making her look strangly ethreal in the coming gale of the Wind   
they loved.  
"A Little Girl." she told them. "A Little Girl who will join us, a Little girl I need to see, A Little girl..."  
she stopped, choking on her words. she chewed her lip for a moment, closing her eyes as if in pain, her hand clasped onto   
the crystal heart amulet around her neck.  
"A Little Girl..." she repeated, "Named Helga."  
  
um....DUM DUM DUM!!! *Tee Hee* I know, not that great. But...um...I don't know, just give it a try, okay?  
It'll get better, promise.  
Next Chappy Uploaded ASAP!  
But until then....  
Wishin' you...  
Love  
Life  
Luck  
n' Lafta'  
~*~CD~*~ 


	2. Woman of the Cloak

Wow! I actually updated in ONE DAY! When was the last time *that* happened?!   
...Maybe we should have a Party?! ^-^  
Disclaimer. Me, Arnold, No.  
  
  
~*~Daughter of Wind~*~  
Chapter Two- Woman of the Cloak.  
  
The little Blonde Sleeper Awoke to the wind against her window pane.  
She rolled over in her pink-sheeted bed, putting a hand over her eyes and moaning tiredly.  
"No, not yet...just let me finish..." she mumbled. She shut her eyes tight, trying to go back to her dream.  
But it was too late. The dream had faded. She grumbled, giving up and slowly making her way out of bed. It was a   
shame, it had been a good one, too. She had just been about to kiss Arnold.  
Why is it that with dreams, you always seem to wake up just before the best part?  
The little girl's fair-skinned feet crept softly on the carpeted floor as she checked her alarm clock. Only six a.m.?!  
No wonder she hadn't heard the blasted thing go off yet. The petite golden-haired child looked forlornly at the  
tousled mess that was her bed. No point in going back there, she thought. She was already wide awake.  
She stumbled silently over to her bedroom light, turning it on and blinking a few times, allowing her pupils to ajust.  
She walked to her mirror, and took in the sight of her reflection. She had taken a shower last night, and had been too  
tired to bother drying her hair with the large paddle-brush she used to striaghten it, so now it hung in a sea of ringlets,  
brushing softly against her chest. One piece imparticular fell over her left eye, but the right was still visible, and shone,  
bluer then the sea, bluer then the sky, with long, delicate eyelashes sweeping over it. Her frame was tall, but her bones  
were small, bird-like, giving her a lanky look that undoubably someday, her body would fill out and grow into. And  
under the light, her ivory skin glowed, clean and vanilla-scented from her body wash.  
If anyone had seen her like this, they would have called her beautiful.  
If Arnold had seen her like this, he would have called her Cecile, and told her she was beautiful.  
But that was not what Helga saw.  
She saw something ugly. She saw something unworthy. And she glared at the girl in the mirror, and hated her for being   
there. She hated the figure for not have rust-red hair, and charming green eyes, and a sweet dispostion.  
She hated the figure, for not bearing the name, Lila.  
She stormed away from the Mirror, and into the bathroom. She put her hair under the sink faucet and turned the water  
on, washing away the curls that were so naturly becoming to her. She grabbed her blow-dryer, turning in on  
and listening to nothing but the rush of blistering hot air as she pulled the paddle-brush through her hair.  
When her hair was dry and suitably straight, it puffed out. This was why her pigtails always stuck out the way they did.  
The frizz from the curls that Helga simply would not let be.  
In a flash, she had her pigtails, and donned her well-known Pink Bow. Did Arnold still like it, she wondered?  
She hoped so. It was there, after all, for his pleasure.  
She jogged back to her room and changed from her sack-like nightgown to her sack-like dress. Socks and shoes were   
last, and finally, she stepped back in front of the mirror, and smirked.  
This was the girl she knew. This was Helga. And while she did not like this reflection any better then the previous,  
she at least reveled in the fact that this one could instill fear in the heart of her cruel, unscrupulous classmates, while the  
other could not.  
She glanced at her clock once again. The sun was up, and it was seven-thirty. She could hear Mirium banging   
cupboards from downstairs, awakened from the kitchen table, where she usually slept. No doubt looking for the  
'special' ingredient to her smoothies.  
Unbeknownst to her mother, Helga had hid the bottle of amber-coloured whisky last night, and it now was safely   
tucked away with two other bottles of the same maker in the back of her closet. She knew that her mother would only  
buy another bottle when she and her father left, but she had been trying to secretly discourage her from drinking for the  
past week. Something had triggered her to do it, she just couldn't remember what anymore.  
The blonde heaved a sorrowful sigh, and headed downstairs. She stepping into the kitchen quietly, observing her  
mothers frantic, useless search for a few moments before interupting,  
"Mom, what're you looking for?" she inquired knowingly. Mirium jumped and spun around quickly, shutting the cabinate  
she had been looking in,  
"What? Oh..." she paused, thinking up a suitable answer in her most likly still fuzzy mind.  
"...nothing, Helga sweetie, don't worry." she finally responed, forcing a small smile.  
Helga just stared back somberly, "Did you make breakfast, Mirium?" her voice was soft and bitter. It was justified   
in being so. What Mother gets drunk in front of their nine-year old daughter?  
The adult's eyes widened, revealing the whites of her eyes to be red from a hangover. Helga had almost never seen her   
mother sober, and tried to remember how, when her eyes were their proper colour, they were that unbelievably  
rare colour of Violet. Like Elizabeth Taylor's. A colour that matched the dress she wore, and made Olga and Bob's  
brown eyes seem dull and muddy in comparison. Helga didn't quite know how she'd gotten her blue eyes. By what  
she knew about genes, her's should've been brown, too.  
"Oh, Helga, I must've fogotten..." Mirium began, "There's some Pop-Tarts somewhere in this kitchen..."  
"Nevermind, Mirium!" she hissed at her, anger peaked, "Just go back to whatever you were looking for!"  
Heavy footsteps lumbered onto the tiled floor. Helga immediatly cringed when she heard the booming voice behind her,  
"Hey! Don't use that tone with your mother, little missy!" her father, Bob, shouted.  
She spun on her heel to face him, eyes narrowed.   
'How could you let her do this?!' she wanted to scream at him, 'How can you call yourself a husband, a Father?!   
Don't you realise she's killing herself right in front of our eyes?!'  
"Yes, BOB." was all that came out of her mouth, laced with her usual sarcasm, before she made her way around him,  
picked up her bag, left carlessly in the hallway, and took off out the front door.  
No one said goodbye to her. They never did, they never would.  
She walked, alone, to the Bus stop, wind pushing against her, making it hard for her to go forward. Lord, the wind  
was vicious today! It stung against her skin, and nearly ripped her bow off. The sky was a looming grey, dark and  
ominous. She finally made it to the bus, and stomped over moodily to her tender-hearted best friend, Phoebe,   
landing onto the seat they shared with a pronounced *thud*.  
Phoebe gave her a sideways Glance, sensing how upset the emotionally unstable blonde was,  
"Helga..." she started, her tone concerned.  
"I don't want to talk about it, Phoebe." Helga snapped, cutting her off.  
The little oriental's dark, almond eyes winded slightly, her brows lifting, but she remained silent.  
"Alright, Helga." she said after a long pause, "Some other time, perhaps."  
The Bully snorted, and the ride was silent until they reached their school, PS 118.  
Helga went straight to her locker, gathering her books. She shut the thin metal door violently, and negan to make her  
way to class, traveling against the never-ending stream of loud students. She had nearly made it through the door of  
Mr. Simmons fourth-grade class, when someone who was trying to get into the exact same room crashed into her.  
She didn't even have to think about who it could be. If you were used to her routine, niether would you.  
"Why don't you watch where you're going, Footballhead?!" she snarled at the boy with the cornflower hair the stood  
a foot away, rubbing a part on his head that had evidently been affected in the acciedent.  
"Sorry, Helga." he apoligized, so use to this daily ritual that it came out almost sing-song.  
"Sorry? SORRY?! Criminey! You nearly killed me, Arnoldo! Ever hear of a SPEED LIMIT?!"  
The Wistful boy gave his half-smile, green eyes sparkling.   
But not for Helga.  
You see, Lila had just brushed past him, into the classroom, and had smiled in his direction. He was no longer even  
aware the his Pigtailed Obsessor was still in the vicinity.  
"Uh-Huh, sure Helga..." he muttered flatly before making his way over to his hearts true desire.  
She gnashed her teeth together, clentching her fists as she took her seat.  
Well, who couldn't say she didn't have reason?! Arnold should, by right, be hers! Not Lila's pathedic boy-toy!  
After all, she had seen him first! She loved him more then anything else on God's green Earth! She had worshiped  
him from afar for as far back as she could remember him. What emotions could Lila boast?! 'Liking' him?! HA!  
"Class, Class, now I want you all to settle down!"  
After a moment of ruckus, Everyone took their appointed seats and listened. The balding teacher beamed with pride   
at his class, looking at at each of them with unabashed joy before starting again,  
"Now, as I was saying, we'll be having a guest speaker in for the next week. She's a woman who's come from very   
far, and specializes in the very unique and special talent of--"  
The torrent wind blustered against the window with such a sudden strength and urgency that the entire class gave a start.  
"It's been like that all day!" Gerald complained, filling the silence of unwarented uneasiness.  
Sid grumbled, "I know! It woke me up this morning!"  
"Me too!" Naidine chimed in.  
"I reckon it ain't natural." Stinky drawled.  
Harold's interest arose, "What? You mean...evil wind?!"  
"I assure you, Harold, that the phenomenon of this unually forceful wind is most natural." Phoebe informed,  
"By my calulation, the pattern that we are observing is a North-Western Wind that will disapate by this afternoon..."  
The door slammed open.  
Every head in the classroom whipped round to face whoever had cause the disturbance. In the doorway, stood  
a cloak.  
A Fushia Cloak.  
Helga looked closely at the thing. The person underneath it was undistinguishable, covered in the velvet-like fabric.  
Even their head was disguised in a large, mideval-styled hood. The person stepped into the room, until they were at  
the front and center of it.  
Swiftly, two arms appeared from the cloak. Their hands were long, slender and feminine, their skin pale as china.  
This was a girl.  
No, not a girl. This was a Woman.  
The hood was Removed, and--just as Helga thought-- a woman stood before them. Sprials of sunshine-tinted hair  
fell easily past her shoulders, down the back of her neck. Her thick lips, visable from underneath her button nose,   
held a determined line. Her eyes were light and blue, and could have been kind, perhaps. But to Helga, they looked  
almost challenging, taking in the room under her two, curved black brows.  
The woman breathed deeply, through her nose, and no one spoke.   
After a short time of this, the woman seemed to grow tired of it, and took it upon herself to shatter the soundlessness,  
"Which one of you was it that said that was a North-Western wind?" she quired, motioning out the glass to the wind.  
Phoebe raise her hand meekly, "It was me, miss." she admited, awaiting her responce.  
The woman crossed her arms. "It was you, was it?" the woman repeated, "Well, are you stupid then, is that it?"  
A unified gasp echoed through the room as Phoebe eyes raised woundedly to the cruel thing that had hurt her.  
"Wh-what do you mean, Miss?" Phoebe stuttered, for once, unsure of her own wit.  
The woman walked to Phoebe's desk and looked down her perfect nose at her, a frown creasing her features,  
"Look out that window." she ordered. "There is nothing westwardly about that wind whatsoever. That is the North  
Wind. Anyone who can't see that is a fool."  
Helga had been observing this turn of events, and was disgusted with the woman. Couldn't she see how defencless   
Phoebe was?! Why pick on her?! Why not Pick on someone more well equipped to take her crap...  
"And why's that, Lady?!" Helga heard herself shout to the woman without warning.  
The woman looked from the window to Helga, raising her right eyebrow. She appraoched her desk, bending down so  
she could get down to Helga's level.  
"Why? Well, I suppose I know the North wind too well. I expect everyone else to."  
she turned her back to Helga and headed to the front of the class once again.  
But Helga haden't had enough. Not just yet.   
"You *know* the wind?!" she mocked, "And how EXACTLY did you manage that?!"  
She spun around, her pale eyes falling back on Helga, and she smiled a secret smile. A knowing smile.  
"I have to know the North Wind." she explained mystically, "...How else would I be able to follow where it leads me?"  
  
And Chapter Two is Over! Ain't'cha GLAD?! LoL. Questions? Comments? Random Rants? I like feedback. Flame  
if you wanna, but for gosh sakes, get a heat-gaurd, will ya'?!  
Next Chap. to be Upload ASAP (God willing you people don't get TIRED of me! ^-^)  
Until Then, Wishin' you...  
Love  
Life  
Luck  
n' Lafta'  
~*~CD~*~ 


	3. The Strangest Kind of Thing...

Uh-Oh. I made a Mistake! Hey, what can I say? It Happens! (Quite often, actually -_-') I said that 'Woman of   
the Cloak' Was chapter Two. *Tee Hee* Really, it was chapter ONE...Yeah...Sorry!   
Anyways, Here Be My Thank-You's...  
  
Satokasu Suki- Oprigada! (Thanks) Believe me, you're not as sorry as I am...Shouldn't have left the dang   
'puter on during a storm...  
  
Lynderia- Glad I got SOMEONE'S attention! *Tee Hee* Actually, Mysterious was what I was going for! Thanks!  
  
Roxynomekop1288- Roxy! What's up girl?! Sorry I haven't been on AOL for such a long time, I kinda   
converted to Cable...(^-^). It's strange that you asked where I've been, because it just so happens I've  
been fighting for the fate of the galaxy with an inter-universal Knight...But enough of my boring life! *lol*  
Yeah, Helga's my Favorite character...One day, I'm going to HAVE to write about someone else!  
  
Momolove- Hey, if you can get me a discount on PC repair, you won't see me complaining! ^_~  
LoL, I'm not that talented, I just call 'em like I see 'em. And having the Great and Powerful Craig look  
at this?! Only if he wanted a laugh, Darling!  
  
Stephie- Thanks babe! I'm continuing, I'm continuing, I'm continuing!  
  
silverkonekotsukari- Ep! I'm writing, I'm writing! Wouldn't want you to fall off your seat! *Tee Hee* Thanks!  
  
pokey- Well, with any luck my 'puter will be fixed within a few days, cross your fingers! *Tee Hee*, Believe  
me, I think I'm a little evil to Lila in the next Chap of LotN (Muwahaha...) Well, what can I say? Weird Person,  
Weird story ideas! (^-^)  
  
Ditey- Thank you very much! I was hoping everyone would like the Helga-Mirror thing. I think my muse must've  
been giving my brain a massage when that came to me!  
  
The Disclaimer Thingy- Yeah... look at all my others.  
  
  
~*Daughter of Wind*~  
The *Real* Chapter Two - The Strangest Kind of Thing...  
  
"Um, I'm assuming the you're Miss Freda Norand?" From the safty of his desk, Mr. Simmons finally decided to speak.  
The woman took her eyes of Helga to stare at at the mid-aged teacher,  
"That I am." she agreed, nodding.  
Simmons, the usually euphoric teacher, struggled to keep a polite smile on his face, Helga could tell. It was obvious   
why. For as sickly cheerful as the man was, Helga had always given him due credit for treating his students with  
the same respect that he would his own children--if he had any. Therfore, insulting one of his stundents was the  
same to him as insulting one of his kin.  
And this Freda woman had just offended his little Asian Daughter.  
Freda cleared her throat, her impatience building,   
"I think you can go now Mister...Richard, was it?"  
Mr. Simmons stared at her blankly before answering, "Yes." as curtly as posible without sounding rude.  
She nodded a second time, "Good. I think you can leave, Richard. I can keep everything under control."  
Ha. Over Helga's dead, bruised and bloody body she could!  
Simmons gathered up a few of his books before turning to the class and saying, "Well, I hope you all have a ...  
special lesson." rather unsurly, his eyes on Freda. He then managed to quickly exit.  
Freda's eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before turning to the class,  
"Well, that's that, then." she concluded, the thinnest of smiles crossing her lips, "I'm Freda." she re-introduced,  
Helga took this as a cue,  
"No doi, Lady." she scoffed, letting the words cut through the air, sharp as steel.  
Freda Norand seemed to ignore the statment, and presued. She walked back over to Phoebe's desk, tilting her head  
down to see the trembling ebony-haired girl, colour drained from her cheeks.  
Freda's smile grew kinder,  
"Sometimes," she began from nowhere, "I forget that I know things other people don't. I'm sorry."  
Helga's blood boiled. How *dare* she accuse her best friend, smartest nine-year-old in the city, of being ignorant?!  
"So what're you saying here, Lady?" Helga sneered loudly, crossing her arms,   
"You're sorry because you think you're smarter then Phoebe?"  
"Helga!" she heard Arnold scold quietly as the rest of the class turned in their seats to face her.  
Freda gasped, a mousey sound, coming from one so strong.  
Helga looked at her. She had just stopped, frozen in time. Her mouth was left open slightly, revealing the very tips of  
her neat rows of white teeth. Her eyes were wide, and Helga, brave as she was, took this oppurtunity to really look  
into their stormy hue.   
Almost immediatly, she felt her own eyes open fully, too.  
Her eyes. Freda's eyes. There was something about her eyes. What was wrong with them? Helga racked her brain  
silently, trying to find reason to why she was locked in a stare with this woman. She had seen this colour before.  
Wasn't this the shade her own eyes used to be? No, that wasn't it, it wasn't just the colour. Words, endless streams  
of feverishly whispered, uncomprehendable words began to flood Helga's mind. She felt small under the older woman's  
unwavering gaze. Small, yet important. Why important? She didn't know. But there was something...something else...  
Both females put a slender, graceful hand over their mouths at the same time.  
Helga put her's down quickly, still watching the sky-tinted eyes steadily. She notice the had slowly become sparkling,  
and unnaturally reflective. What, were those tears?  
Helga would never be able to know for sure, because Freda blinked, and the shine was gone.  
She turned to Arnold, "What did you say her name was?" she asked him. Her voice seemed softer now. Gentle.  
Helga peered at Arnold, and saw that he was vainly attempting to see what had facinated her so in the eyes of  
Miss Norand.  
Finally, see nothing in her but a demand to know, Arnold swallowed hard, "Her name's--"  
"Helga." Arnold was cut off by Helga herself. "My name is Helga." she admitted, her manner less voletile then it had   
been in ages.  
Freda smoothed her hand against the bridge of her nose, her eyes downward sadly,  
"Helga...Pataki?" was her next question, though by her tone, she seemed to already expect the answer.  
Helga felt her head tilt inquizitivly, "How do you know that?" she replied with a question of her own.  
Freda's eyes closed, making her look distant and wistful,   
"I knew...know, your parents." she responded. Her lids swung open, and she studied Helga once more,  
"I would tell you they were good people..." she added critically, "But I'd be lying, and you'd know that."  
Helga sat stunned for a moment, but finally gave a nod in agreement.  
Freda returned with a tender grin, "Good. Now, let's say we begin, hm?"  
Gerald raised his hand, "Wait a minute, Miss!" he ordered.  
Freda regarded him boredly as she took off her heavy fushia cloak, dropping it uncermoniusly on Mr. Simmon's  
chair. She wore a simple, long-sleeved dress of the same colour and material underneeth.  
"Yes?" was her dull reply to his throaty voice.  
Gerald cocked an eyebrow at her unbelievingly and took a breath,   
"So what's all this jazz about the North Wind?"  
The blonde elder viewed her dark student with amusement, "'Jazz about the North Wind'?" she chuckled, trying to   
imitate his tone, "Well, I've never heard it refered to as that."  
She stood in thought for a moment, sneaking a glance to Helga that the Pigtailed Predator couldn't help but notice.  
"Well, I suppose I should tell all of you, you might as well know--"  
"Know what?" Rhonda sighed, voice haughty and dismal.  
Freda scowled at her. For some reason, Helga found something strange about that.  
Helga could see the Fushia-Clothed Freda's jaw tighten, then relax back into emotionlessness,  
"Tell me, who here follow's a certain religion?"  
Sheena put up her hand, "I'm Christian."  
"So am I!" Eugene exclaimed brightly.  
"OH! I'M JEWISH!" Harold yelled--at the top of his lungs, Helga noted-- raising a chubby arm.  
"My mom says we're Atheist." Nadine commented shyly.  
Curly flailed his hands, suddenly and without sanity, "CANNIBALISM!" He hollered before breaking into shreiks   
of maniacal laughter.  
Freda blinked at him a few times before turning back to eye Helga,  
"Is he alright?" she inquired, speaking to her.  
Helga shrugged casually, "Just your everyday sick, twisted freak, forgotten by society." she explained complacently.  
"Ah, I see." Freda returned shortly, before continuing with the topic at hand.  
"Well, you see, I have a certain religion, too. My is just...very rare."  
"Are you refering to the study of Wiccian Belief?" Came Phoebe.   
Miss Norand shook her head, "No, Wiccian is well-known. Only a handful of people who do not actually belong to   
my religion remember it. The older of those people call us by what their parents used to know us as. The call us Wind  
Worshipers. But the children of those people prefere a more politically-correct name, and call us 'Followers of the  
North Wind.'" Freda gazed out the window, staring out into the wind, still howling at the frame.  
"Look at the old beliefs of any ancient people. All of them say that the most powerful, the strongest of all the winds is  
the Great North Wind. Many even said the North Wind knew magick no other did, and had developed a way to  
communicate with the people. In fact, their was a tribe, long ago, who insisted that the North Wind did speak to   
them, and told them where to travel, and what to do there, and when to leave. At first, this tribe was said to   
consist of more then a hundred people. But, eventually, faith dwindled, and, one by one, people began to leave.  
I am one of the last of what remains of the followers...I am one of the few who can still hear the North Wind..."  
Her eyes settled back upon the class,  
"I'll be honest, Children. I was hired to teach you about weather. The School board thinks I follow weather   
Patterns. And I suppose, in a way, they can be said to be right. But, in truth, all I know is the North Wind."  
She folded her hands together, waiting for a response from the class. Helga could say nothing, do nothing,  
but look at the Wind-Worshiper with her bright, blue eyes.  
And Freda looked at her, too. This time, her eyes were pleading. Asking her to do...something. But Helga  
couldn't think of what. She was too distracted by how the Eyes of this woman made somthing itch at the back  
of her mind. A thought...But, not really. Something bigger...  
"Then teach us what you know, Miss Norand."  
Helga looked from Freda to Arnold, who had intrupted her thought once again to give the New teacher his advice.  
The corners of Freda's mouth turned upwards unexpectedly,  
"Alright." Freda said, "We'll begin--"  
The lesson was invaded rudly by the sound of the bell, signaling first recess.  
Freda gave a roll of her livly eyes, "--Tomorrow, I suppose." she corrected. "For now, you're dismissed."  
The class shuffled out of their seats and bolted out the room. Helga got up quickly, trying to shove her way through  
a crowd of her classmate, but felt a timid hand touch her shoulder, dove-like.  
She turned, and was face-to-face with eyes, colour of the calm before a storm.  
Freda.  
She smiled at her tranquily, "It was good to meet you, Helga." She whispered, her voice sweet-tempered and soothing.  
Helga's eyes fluttered, for once, unable to think of a frigid come back.  
"It was...good to meet you too, Miss Norand." she breathed, amazed of what she spoke.  
The older Blonde shook her head, chortleing, "Call me Freda." she insisted.  
Helga bit her lip,  
"Freda." she murmured in apology.   
She looked at her, and Helga mind became fuzzy. The world around her seemed dream-like. Where was she?  
What was going on?  
Helga gave her head a shake, clearing the daze.  
"I--I have to go." she said quickly to Freda, and speed out the door, touching the side of her forehead.  
"Goodbye Helga." were the last, mild words she heard from Freda, before she pushed open the heavy metal doors,  
into the schoolyard of PS 118, wondering just what was happening to her.  
  
***  
  
In her lavish office, Doctor Vivian Bliss, tapped her pencil anxiously against her pad of paper, used to deduce the  
problems of all her child patients. She looked down at what she had written, while waiting for her next appointment.  
Helga.  
Helga.  
Helga.  
Freda.  
Freda.  
Freda.  
Those two names. Scribbled over the once prestine page. Doctor Bliss held her head in her hands and gave a quick  
cry of frustration. This wasn't working. She couldn't get her mind off it. She had to confirm if her suspicions were  
correct.  
She would have to go and see for herself.  
She got up from the plush chair she sat on, walked to her dark mahogeny desk, pushing a button conected to the  
sleek, silver intercom atop it,  
"Rosie?" she called into the speaker.  
A voice emitted from inside it, "Yeah, Viv?" her secretary responded uncerimoniously.  
"Cancel all my appointments for today, will you please? I have to make a special trip to see if one of my patients is   
alright."  
There was a short delay before Rosie was heard again, "You didn't tell me about any special trip, Viv."  
"Well, it's sort of spur-of-the-moment."  
"Where?"  
Vivian let go of the button for a moment, letting out a shaky breath, before pressing down on it again,  
"PS 118, Rosie, PS 118."  
WIth that, she grabbed her Gucci Duster-Coat, and made her way to her car, praying this was nothing more then  
a fear from her paranoid imagination.  
But somehow, she knew it was not.  
~*~ End of chapter Two~*~  
Expected a long chapter? Sorry! Lotsa stuff been going on in my life. For instance, ever have your ex-boyfriend  
call you and ask you advice for ANOTHER girl? No? Believe me, that's something you NEVER want to happen!  
:(. Anyways. I've been updating a lot more frequently with this story then I usually do, so the next update'll  
probably be soon!  
Wishin' You...  
Love  
Life  
Luck   
n' Lafta'  
~*~CD~*~ 


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